


the stars will align, the stars will align

by ladypeaceful



Series: each time the universe splits, i'll find you in the stars again [5]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Awkward Crush, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sibling Bonding, davenzi + amira are a matchmaking dream team, i've been sitting on this for 3 days straight and finally brought it to fruition today, ninja!abdos, this is my new favorite crackship and im honored to be the first to use the josam pairing tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypeaceful/pseuds/ladypeaceful
Summary: “i wanted to look nice,” he mumbles.“for jonas,” she says. it’s not a question.“maybe,“ he concedes weakly. it sounds like ayesthat he can’t quite get out.





	the stars will align, the stars will align

**Author's Note:**

> \- i promised myself i would do this and now it's here!!!! the first jonas x essam fic ever  
\- silly abi chaker clan shenanigans at the WG what else is new  
\- i really wanted to write amira being loving and protective of essam because we haven't gotten that side of them yet but she loves her little brother SO MUCH and wants him to be happy okay  
\- title from rose golden by kid cudi ft. willow smith  
\- :))))))))))

“what, pray _tell_,” amira asks, “are you wearing.”

it’s a saturday, the clock behind essam reads a little after one in the afternoon, and the expression on his face is indicative of the kind of nerves unlike any she’s ever seen plague her little brother.

“is that _omar’s_ shirt?” she starts laughing, and essam’s look of discomfort changes into a halfhearted smile that still looks closer to a pained grimace than anything else.

“does it look bad on me?”

amira is still cracking up. “essam, it’s not--you just don’t look like yourself at all. no, i mean you look good, but why are you dressed like you’re about to go to church with white people?”

at that, he deflates a little, and begins unbuttoning the shirt to take it off. “forget it. this was stupid anyway.”

his tone makes her stop laughing then and she steps forward to still his fumbling hands. “hey, hey. i’m sorry for teasing. tell me what’s up?”

he looks at her then the way she’s been used to her whole life, the way that ensures she’ll take care of him like she always has. like when he was five and would beg her to sneak him an extra helping of baklava when mama wasn’t looking and she wouldn’t be able to resist his puppy dog eyes. or when he was thirteen and came home from school one day with blood on his shirt and trusted only her with the knowledge that he’d thrown the first punch in a fight because the other kid had hurled words at him like _dirty_ and _foreigner_ and _freak._

needless to say, she had never blamed him. it would have been unthinkable. she had just taken him into her bathroom and shown him the same trick mama had taught her to get blood out of clothes with baking soda, and he’d watched her with shining admiration and endless gratitude.

now, those same eyes meet hers, flit away, then flit back as he takes a deep breath, takes his phone off the top of his dresser, and shows her the screen.

the texts from jonas are brief but the significance of them is clear nonetheless.

he’d sent a couple lines about matteo having the guys over at his flatshare, that of course essam was welcome to join, and topped it off with a photo of an assortment of alcoholic beverages, piled haphazardly on matteo’s coffee table. amira zooms in on it to see that jonas has purposely placed several bottles of club mate directly in the center of the other bottles. the snapchat caption simply reads _for you!_

and now amira understands. why essam is so nervous, and why he took omar’s shirt. essam wouldn’t care so much what he looks like if he was just going to a casual hangout with a bunch of their friends, not unless--

“i wanted to look nice,” he mumbles.

“for jonas,” she says. it’s not a question.

“maybe,“ he concedes weakly. it sounds like a _yes_ that he can’t quite get out.

“essam.” amira takes both of his hands in hers, holds them gently like she used to when she needed to get him to listen to her. it still works, because he looks at her fully for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. “you won’t look nice if you don’t wear something you feel good in.”

“i guess so.” he sounds unconvinced.

“why did you take omar’s dress shirt? you have your own, don’t you?”

essam flails his hands helplessly while still in amira’s grasp, so her hands are forced to flap around with his. “um. i don’t know. i just didn’t like any of mine when i was trying them on. it’s stupid, i told you.”

“none of this is stupid. you have a crush. it’s normal to feel like this.”

“really? because this kind of sucks.”

she has to laugh at that, and essam even joins in.

“trust me, i know. but have you thought,” she says carefully, “that maybe jonas might, you know? feel the same way?”

“you think so?” he sounds immediately hopeful, and amira has a moment of panic when she thinks she might have instilled some unwarranted optimism in him.

but she also remembers that day at the lake, when she had been sitting in the shade with jonas, the way he had watched her brother wade through the water, yelling and laughing with omar, matteo, and david. she knows jonas had been paying attention to essam specifically because his gaze had tracked him as he swam all the way across to the other shore and back, before getting out of the water and shaking himself dry like a dog.

she also knows because jonas had turned to her, face red and voice more than a little shaky, and asked, _is it weird if your brother kissed me on the cheek and i can’t really stop thinking about it?_

_not weird,_ she had said, _but i would warn you against dating him because he’s a disaster._

_i’m not much better, maybe we would be a good fit, _jonas had joked, relaxing slightly.

_you might,_ amira had smiled. _he’s a little gremlin sometimes but he’s a good egg ultimately._

jonas had quietly resumed watching essam but this time with a dreamy smile that didn’t leave his face for at least half an hour.

amira realizes now in retrospect that not only had he been uncertain about his feelings, but that he’d been anxious about _her_ reaction to his confession.

so, in that moment, she makes up her mind as she tells essam, “only one way to find out,” and he stares at her with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension until she steers him towards his closet and coaxes him into an ensemble of one of his less ratty t-shirts paired with some fitted jeans.

“no need to be fancy, the most important thing is for you to feel like yourself. at any rate, the key to looking put together,” she informs him sagely, “is to accessorize.” she grabs a pair of sunglasses off his desk and balances them so they sit atop his head, and rummages through one of his drawers for a couple of simple woven leather bracelets that she hands to him to put on.

“now you’re ready to woo your man!” amira claps her hands together, pleased with her work.

essam bites his lip. “will you come with me? to save me before i make a fool out of myself?”

“in any other scenario i would tell you it’s too late for that but i shall humor you just this once, baby dwarf,” she boops his nose, which he wrinkles at her touch. “and also because i’m excited for how cute you and jonas will look together.”

“on second thought, maybe bringing you will be the direct cause of my embarrassment.”

“no take backs! i’m texting jonas right this second that i’m coming so you can’t stop me now!”

she only manages to narrowly evade his swipe for her phone and turns to quickly run downstairs, yelling over her shoulder that this is now a race to get to matteo’s place. he nearly crashes down the stairs in his hurry to beat her to the door and she laughs harder than she has all week.

\--

amira rings the buzzer because essam insists he’s too nervous to do it. matteo answers with a drawn-out “hallooooo?”

“it’s us, vollidiot.” she announces to the intercom.

“coach!” he hits the button to let them in. “we’ve been expecting you.”

amira wiggles her eyebrows at essam, who swats at her, a faint blush already tinting the apples of his cheeks.

when they get to the door, matteo does his signature handshake with amira, gives essam a hug and a hearty clap on the back, and leads them through to the living room where their friends are congregated. matteo retreats to his spot on the couch which is, as usual, wherever david happens to be.

at the center of attention are jonas and carlos, who currently seem to be locked in a stalemate of an arm wrestling match. laura, perched on the arm of the couch next to her brother and his boyfriend, helpfully fills amira in on the context. “whoever loses has to kiss abdi.”

“whose dare was this?” it’s a good one, which is why she’s asking.

“mine!” david raises a hand and she reaches over matteo’s head to high five him.

as if on cue, carlos suddenly goes slack and jonas slams his hand into the table. about half of the people in the room let out groans of disappointment, but amira notices a flurry of quick glances and swiftly concealed smirks being exchanged between laura, matteo, david, hanna, and sam. interesting.

there are a few whoops and hollers, including one from jonas who looks very pleased with himself now, as abdi walks staunchly over to carlos, bends down, cups his face with a little more drama than necessary, and plants a kiss squarely on his lips. aside from carlos maybe looking a little dazed when abdi pulls away, nobody seems any the wiser, but it’s still obvious to amira that this was definitely an orchestrated conspiracy.

speaking of which, she needs to set one up herself.

she excuses herself to go to the bathroom and waits until she’s completely out of the room to text matteo so that no one will notice them on their phones at the same time.

_hey so can you do me a favor and set up a dare where jonas will end up kissing essam_

matteo types back immediately.

_oooooooooh are we matchmaking_

amira has to hold back a snort.

_more like giving a gentle push to two people who already like each other_

she imagines david is reading over matteo’s shoulder, so she adds on, _if david wants to do it so it doesn’t look as suspicious that you’re daring someone after texting, that would be a good idea_

matteo sends back three replies in quick succession.

_!!!!!!!_

_that’s exactly what he just told me_

_you galaxy brains_

amira sends back 3 handshake emojis, composes her face into something neutral, and heads back out to the living room. she observes with quiet approval that matteo remains on his phone for a few minutes after she returns so it doesn’t look like he was just texting her while she was out of the room.

david, wise as amira knew he would be, lets two more dares be executed before he makes his critical move. first, hanna is dared to go into hans’ room and spray him with silly string, which ends with hans running out to scold the group, albeit smilingly and with no real anger behind the words, before shaking his head and walking off to clean himself up.

keeping in line with reminding matteo’s flatmates that they are at constant risk of involvement in shenanigans, sam is dared next to put on a blindfold and find her way to linn’s room without breaking anything. this one takes a good two or three minutes, but when they hear linn’s faint shout of “_matteo_, what the _fuck_,” and sam’s triumphant “i found her!” there’s a round of cheering and applause to sam reappearing in the living room and ripping the blindfold off.

“alright, alright,” david waves his arms around to quiet the crowd, “settle down.” he shifts, as much as he can with most of matteo’s weight on him, to face essam, who has been uncharacteristically quiet since his arrival.

“essam, are you up for a dare?”

amira gives her brother an encouraging nod but nothing more than that which would arouse suspicion. essam, in turn, nods at david, who rubs his hands together and looks around mischievously at the rest of their party.

“okay, essam and... let’s see... _stefan_,” david points imperiously at him where he’s sitting next to hanna, “will race each other to do thirty push-ups. whoever is slower gets a kiss froooom,” david turns to the lucky culprit, “jonas!”

amid the group’s sudden chaos of placing bets and general noise-making, amira watches the series of emotions that flash across jonas’ face like he’s an open book: shock, uncertainty, something resembling anticipation or even desire as he betrays himself with the quickest glance up at essam, and an unmistakable fear when he watches stefan get up to move to somewhere with more space. the murderous glare that jonas shoots at david has amira fighting to not burst out laughing. she can’t blame him; to him, the stakes must seem particularly high in this one.

david, now definitely her favorite conspiratorial partner, just winks at jonas, who sputters indignantly.

next to amira, essam fidgets and shuffles his feet. she leans into his ear to whisper quietly in arabic, “all you have to do is lose to that white boy. just make it look convincing.”

stefan is waiting for his competitor with an expectant smile, so amira nudges essam towards him, switching to german as she joins the cacophony of encouragements and good-natured trash talk alike. “kick his ass, essam!”

they get into position, carlos hovering over them as the referee and counting them down. “three, two, one,_ go!”_

essam does about fifteen push ups in sync with stefan, keeping the crowd on their toes, then lets himself slow down only incrementally so that he falls behind stefan at a believable pace; he’s at twenty-five when stefan hits thirty and collapses on his stomach, then rolls over, grinning, as hanna puts a hand on his face and congratulates him on his victory. everyone else has absolutely lost their marbles, but amira is only looking at jonas to gauge his reaction. as she had hoped, he has gone very quiet and very crimson. perfect.

essam is on his back as well, eyes scrunched closed from the exertion and trying to catch his breath. without opening his eyes, he calls out, “alright, where’s my kiss then?” amira is surprised that he’s this vocal, given that they need to continue to sell the fact to everyone that this is really punishment for him. but it’s possible that he might be on a bit of a dopamine high right now, making him a little more reckless than usual, which is saying something.

without any further delay, jonas gets up to walk over, and essam makes no move to adjust his position on the floor, remaining flat on his back.

“am i doing this prince charming style then?” jonas asks, in an attempt to maybe sound nonchalant, but his voice shakes a little too much to pass off his nervousness. elated that all is going according to plan, amira shoots a satisfied smirk over to david and matteo, who throw up matching peace signs at her.

in response to jonas’ question, essam shifts so that he’s lying with his body in a straight line, feet together, and hands crossed primly across the front of his chest. an uncanny impression of the serenely unconscious sleeping beauty. a smattering of laughter travels around the group.

jonas bends down, hovering over essam for a few seconds as if to prepare himself, before putting a gentle hand on his cheek and leaning in for the kiss. when their lips meet, david whoops the loudest out of everyone, sam lets out a high-pitched squeal, and carlos and abdi collapse into each other in fits of giggles.

when jonas tries to pull away, essam springs into motion and reaches up to grab him by the back of his neck, not letting him go. jonas is visibly taken aback but not displeased, letting essam hold the kiss intact for many seconds longer than the dare warrants. when they do finally separate, jonas is redder than he’s ever been, and he and essam can’t look at each other without breaking into giggles.

shaking her head and smiling so hard her face hurts, amira bounds over to give david and matteo celebratory fist bumps. jonas, his movements shy but full of intent, laces his fingers into essam’s and brings his knuckles up to his lips, to a chorus of _oooohs_ and _awwwws_ from everyone else.

“glad you’re awake now, princess.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- aaaaaaaaaa  
\- i posted this on tumblr in two parts, [here](https://isaksavedeven.tumblr.com/post/186634621917/what-pray-tell-amira-asks-are-you-wearing) and [here](https://isaksavedeven.tumblr.com/post/186643431757/amira-rings-the-buzzer-because-essam-insists-hes), come say hi!!


End file.
